The Secret Life of my Family Tree
by BeatleGirlInABeatleWorld
Summary: Hunter McCalla is upset, to say the least, when her mom or 'mommy dearest' makes her go to Kansas City with her and her grandma, Julia, instead of a Paul McCartney concert. But what if she's actually closer to Paul McCartney than she thinks?
1. The One with the Concert

**A/N: Now, I know what y'all are thinking. 'But BeatleGirl, why a new story? You already have two others, what with the George and the mall and the Hot Topic and –has an aneurism-' I know guys, I know… I just can't help it! Every time I have a new idea I can't wait to write it. But I will keep writing my others, don't worry!**

**PS: -oOoOoOoOoOo- is my scene separator. I don't know how to do the grey ones (if anyone could tell me, that would be fab) so this will be mine for now. (:**

I slammed a coffee cup into the dishwasher as I argued with my mother, Cindy.

"Oh my god, mom! I've had these tickets for months now and you think you can just out of the blue say 'Nope, you ain't goin'!'"

"Hunter, I said we're going to see our family and that's final! Paul McCarthy will be back in St. Louis some other time and you can go then..." she replied, nonchalantly. My face turned bright tomato red as I tried not to go off on my mom.

"Okay, first of all, it's_ McCartney_ not McCarthy and you _know_ that and second of all, how do you know he'll be back? This is the last stop of this tour and he's getting older. I don't know how much longer he'll tour! And lastly, do you realize how long it took me to save up the money to get the tickets? How much puke I had to clean up in those horrible theater bathrooms? Because let me tell you, it's-!" I was cut off.

"This is not arguable! You're going to Kansas City with us and that's that!"

My grandmother, Julia, walked into the kitchen and grabbed some coffee. She's lived with me and my mom ever since grandpa passed on. She was never the same and my mom thought it'd be good for her to stay here.

"Why are you so flushed, sweetie?" I stared at my mom in rage and then turned to her.

"_Mom_," I spat. ",is making me give up my Paul McCartney tickets to go with you guys to Kansas City to go see aunt Pam and uncle Bill." She snapped her head to my mom, looking horrified.

"Oh c'mon, Cindy, let 'er go! How could you deny this child the opportunity to see her idol?" The thing about my grandma was she was cool. She was around in the 60s and was an original Beatle maniac and didn't judge my taste in music, unlike mom.

My mom crossed her arms and raised a slender eyebrow.

"See, that's what creeps me out! She has a crush on a 68 year old and you encourage it!" I had no idea why, but my mom had the most intense hatred toward him. I'm pretty sure the love of the Beatles and Paul McCartney skipped a generation in this family.

"I don't have a crush on him now! But in the '60s..." I fanned myself to annoy her. Grandma chuckled at that and went out the living room.

"Well Hunter, I don't think I can convince mom. Looks like you're going to Kansas City with us!" she called back.

Mommy dearest beamed a triumphant grin. I think she found some sadistic pleasure in my misery, but I knew how to really set her off.

"FINE!" I stopped and stared at her face in fascination and let a cheeky smile spread across my face. "Y'know mom, you have the same kind of eyes as Paul McCartney... And the mouth! Oh that mouth!"All of that is was true too. Strangely, she did resemble him in some ways. Her face was on fire as she looked over at grandma and back at me.

She fumbled with her words and then stormed out of the kitchen, enraged. Mission accomplished.

I wallowed in my victory and strode into the living room. I plopped on the couch and laid my head on my grandma's shoulder, remembering I was still screwed for the concert.

"Sigh," I said out loud. ", why does mom have to be so... herself sometimes?"

"She has her reasons for deciding not to let you go and you should respect that." My eyes shot up at her in confusion and she shook her head once.

"Not really." She whispered back. I half grinned and then pulled myself up from the couch.

"Guess I should go pack for the trip." I declared, unenthusiastically. "I _should_ be going to decide what to wear for the concert…" I muttered to myself.

-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-

"We're leaving NOW, Hunter!" Mommy Dearest called from downstairs. "I hope you realize you're holding the rest of us back!" God I wanted to slap her sometimes.

"Oh my god, mother, I'm coming!" I stomped down the steps, suitcase in hand, and gave my mom a nasty look. She looked at me with an 'I-know-you're-miserable-that's-why-I'm-happy' smile and then pointed at my shirt.

"Why aren't you wearing that lovely sweater Pam made for you?"

Last Christmas, my aunt gave me a horrid, embroidered cat sweater that I was forced to wear on any occasion I saw her.

"It's right here in my suitcase." I lied.

"Well you should wear it there. It looks very nice you." She shot back.

"We don't have time for her to change now, Cindy. Let's just get out of here." Once again, my grandmother had saved me.

"Fine, let's just hit the road then."

We all piled into the car and drove out into the exciting highways of the Missouri plains. I took out my mp3 player and turned it up full blast so my mother could clearly hear the lyrics to the Band on the Run album, just out of spite.

I kept my eyes open for about an hour, but it became impossible after a while. I fell asleep in the back of the Celica while thinking about how I should, but won't be in the Savis Center tomorrow singing along with Paul McCartney to Hey Jude. Boy, do I hate my mom.


	2. The One with the Gas Station

"Hunter, wake uuuup!" I felt my mother's cold fingers grasping my shoulders and shaking me.

"What, mommy dearest?"

"What did you call me?" I shot up out of my seat with the sudden realization that I called her that out loud. She stood there with her brows furrowed and looking furious (but this look was normal for her).

"Oh um, nothing, are we there already?" It was dark outside and the only thing I could see was my mom standing at the car door.

"No, we still got a while to go, but we just stopped at a gas station in Jefferson City. You should probably try and go now so we won't have to stop later." My eyes squinted at the sudden light coming from a car pulling into the parking lot. I slid out of the seat and onto the black pavement of the parking lot, where my body was hit by the chilly air of the night. As I stood up, I felt the pressure in my lower stomach, warning me that I was about to explode. I ran into the gas station, something that I wouldn't do unless I wanted to get to a bathroom, and frantically tried to find the restroom.

The cashier must have spotted me doing the potty dance in the middle of the store and casually pointed to the back right corner. I smiled a little to show my appreciation and ran like the wind to the back. In my blind rush, I bumped into a man heading into the men's restroom.

"Oh excuse me sir, I'm so sorry!" I stuck one hand out toward him, but still pushed open the restroom door, being half apologetic and half 'get me the hell into this bathroom before I burst'.

"No problem, miss." The voice that spoke hit me right in the heart. I knew that voice anywhere.

I spun around on my heel to try and figure out if the voice I heard was coming from who I thought it was. My eyes hit the man's shoes and I slowly brought my head up. There, in flesh appearing was Sir James Paul McCartney. My idol.

I flew back against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

"Y- you're- you're –y- you are…" I took a second to get myself somewhat together. "P- Paul Mmmmm…" My voice trailed off as I stared at him in wonderment.

"McCartney?" He finished my sentence. I felt like I couldn't speak anymore so I just nodded in reply.

"Wow, you're pretty young to be able to recognize me like that. How old are you, love?" Love! He called me love!

"Um, 15 sir." My reply was quiet and humble. Paul started to say something else but I heard my grandmother calling to me.

"Hunter! Are you done yet, you're mother is getting… err, herself. We gotta go!" Oh, my grandma! She will be so psyched to see Paul McCartney!

"Oh could you excuse me one second, sir? I just have someone I _know_ would love to meet you!" I really couldn't wait for his reply, so I stormed off to find grandma.

I found her in the candy aisle and grabbed her wrist.

"C'mon! I have someone for you to meet!" I started pulling her off to the back.

"I don't think I want to meet someone from the gas station in GodKnowsWhere, Missouri…" she said, wearily.

"Oooh, I know you'll want to meet this person!" I smiled like a crazy person and pulled her over to Paul.

"Tada!" I presented Paul McCartney to her like a showcase. He stiffened up and stared at my grandma for a long second, jaw scraping the ground, while it seemed all the blood drained from grandma's face.

"Julia?" He put his arms out for a hug and pulled my grandma closer. I was flabbergasted, to say the least, and watched this all happen. I tried to talk, but was just speechless. What could I say?

"Wait, you guys _know_ each other? Grandma, why didn't you tell me this? You don't think your Beatles obsessed grand-daughter would be happy to know you know him?" I smiled and joked with my grandma, as Paul looked at me confused.

"She's your grand-daughter?" he questioned her, while looking at me.

We were all distracted when the dinging of the bell on the gas station door went off. I could see the top of mommy dearest's head while she stormed toward us in the back.

"Hunter! You think we can just hang out here all night? Do you realize I've been waiting out there for 10 minutes being harassed by homeless people and creeps?" She yelled at me until she noticed two other people around her. She first noticed my grandma and gave her a steely glare, like she was responsible for something and then noticed the 68 year old man standing with us. Her eyes were drawn up to his face and as soon as their eyes connected, a horrified look spread over her face.

I expected the horror to be her reaction to being in the presence of the one and only Paul McCartney, but I was wrong. Boy was I wrong.

She choked on her words a few times and then finally stumbled out the word:

"D- dad?"


	3. The One with the Secret

"WHAT?" Grandma pulled me back by the shoulders and watched my mom in shock. I didn't even know how to think anymore. I flipped my line of vision from mom to Paul back at grandma then back to mom and Paul like a confused little kid.

"But… but no! Your dad is Robert Brown! _Not_ Paul McCartney! You're confused mom, right?" I turned back to face my grandma.

"Right?" My voice was little. She sighed and laid a hand on my head.

"No. He's her father." My mind was filled with all these voices and all this confusion. I was racing but couldn't find the finish line. How can this be? He can't be her dad though! What about grandpa? They just hid this from me? Is he really _my_ grandfather? _Her_ father?

"I take it you're Cindy's daughter then, right?" My eyes shot up to him as he waited for my answer.

"Yeah." Short and sweet.

"H- How did this- nobody told me, I-!" There were so many things I wanted to ask them, but couldn't think of it all at once. Mom still watched Paul with an odd mix of surprise, anger and a little sadness. Wait how did I not notice it before? The way they stood next to each other, the resemblance was striking; same nose, same eyes, same mouth, and same face. She was a female Paul McCartney. I wasn't wrong about her, she _did_ look like him!

"I met your grandmother back in 1965," Paul started to explain. "She had been at one of our concerts in St. Louis and had backstage passes from the radio station she worked. She came back to meet us and right off the bat I was just head over heels for her. The way she walked, the way she talked, the way she twirled her hair with the pen as she interviewed us, everything. So I asked her if she wanted to go get some tea or something-"

"And I said yes." Grandma put in, getting a little smiley at the memory. He smiled back at her and continued on.

"We talked in the café for a good, solid three hours about everything and nothing."

"Favorite foods," she added on.

"Yours was toasted ravioli, I remember." Grandma chuckled and kept on with their little back and forth of the story telling.

"And you said your favorite was the good kind." Paul grinned and bit his lip slightly, looking back over at me.

"After they started shutting down for the evening, we headed back to the hotel…" He didn't need to finish that. I shuddered at that very thought. I don't care if it was Paul McCartney; it was still hearing about my grandmother's one-night stand from the 60s.

"Um okay, I get it."

"Right. Well, as you can tell, after that night, I couldn't really ever see her again. When I got back home about a year later, I got a letter from her telling me she had had a little baby girl she named Cynthia. I told her that I would help her out in every single way, but she said she didn't need it. She said she met another man, Robert, who would be easier to 'deal with' as far as being a father. Believe me, I _did_ want to help raise your mother, but Julia wouldn't hear of it."

"You could've done _something_!" Mom snapped.

"Cynthia! Don't say that, you know-"

"No mom, I don't care if you just wanted us to be safe from the press or the scrutiny, he was _my_ biological dad, and a rich one. A_ very_ rich at that! All he cared about was his stupid Linda and _real_ kids, not his bastard kid from some Midwestern girl he met in '65!" she turned to me and started pointing fingers at Paul.

"Do you realize the only thing I ever got from him was a secret package on birthdays and Christmas and _maybe_, if I was lucky, I'd actually see him every 5 years or so?" Paul looked very hurt by this. His voice got very soft.

"I'm so sorry, Cyn. I know I could've done better, but it was all your mum would allow." My mom flew off the chain.

"Oh don't give me that bullshit, dad! You would let her stop you from being in some sort of healthy contact with your child?"

"For heaven sakes, stop it! This is my fault, I know. We managed fine though, didn't we? You had a normal father figure and he _was_ like a normal dad!" They all seemed to ignore me standing aside watching the beautiful disaster of a fight.

"Guys, please stop." I pleaded quietly. Surprisingly they actually heard me and stopped what they were doing and looked at me.

"Mom, you really shouldn't be so mad at him. From what I've heard, he was only respecting grandma's wishes. I'm just sayin'…" No one said anything but mom's face seemed to lighten a little.

I started to come back into my senses and returned back to normal mode.

"So let me get something straight." I said slowly. "So Paul McCartney is your dad," I pointed over at my mom. ", and he's my… grandpa?" Each of their heads bobbled up and down.

"And why was this huge secret kept from me all my life? Apparently everyone knew; mom, grandma, grandpa, Pam, Bill. Any other juicy secrets? Oh wait, is Johnny Depp my long lost cousin?"

"I don't know why anymore, really." Grandma replied in a soft tone. "I guess some sense of normalcy. All of when your mom was growing up, it was always this big deal to keep telling her that her daddy at home was her 'daddy' daddy, but her 'real' daddy was some other guy she barely ever saw or knew. Neither of us wanted that for you."

"That's why when you started falling in love with the Beatles and all that I freaked out. I thought you might eventually recognize our similarities." Mom interjected. Holy crap, it made more sense now. Mommy dearest didn't like me liking them because she thought I'd finally realize that they look alike.

"Wow. That's interesting." I said unenthused. "So where do we go from here? I found out in this," I looked down at my watch. "very brief 10 minutes that my, who I thought was real, grandfather, isn't really my grandfather, it's Paul McCartney, found out why my mother hates him so much, found out the oh-so romantic love saga of my grandmother and Paul McCartney and found out why secrets are kept in this family. I can't imagine learning any other new and exciting things on this fine evening in this fine gas station." Paul chuckled at that.

"You are a wisecracker, just like your mum." I smirked and crossed my arms.

"Thanks grandpa." Wow that was the strangest thing I'd ever done; called Paul grandpa.

"Well where are you guys headed to?"

"We're going to Kansas City." I replied blandly.

"Going to Kansas City, gonna get my baby back home, yeah, yeah." Paul said under his breath, making me smile. "Well, I'm going to St. Louis for my next stop."

"Oh really! No way! I had_ no_ idea!" I exclaimed sarcastically, staring over at mommy dearest.

"We should be back there in a few days." Grandma replied for me. "But you'll be gone by then, won't you?" Paul nodded dismally.

"Why don't we just get numbers or something then?" I chirped. I really did want to get to know him now. I mean I did before, but this whole grandfather thing kinda changes everything, you know?

"Good idea!" 'Grandpa' said. "Hunter, you're a smart cookie, you know that?" A smile half way creeped up onto my face at the thought of him complimenting me.

"I'm going out to the car then." Mommy dearest declared, tiredly.

"Me too," Grandma followed.

Paul and I stood there at the back of the dirty gas station exchanging looks. The idea of him being my grandfather still hadn't settled.

"Crazy night." I said to myself.

"Huh, yeah." Paul scoffed. "You know, when this whole tour is over, I'm thinking I might stay in St. Louis a few days extra. You're a very special person, you know, and I want to get to know you. I just don't want you to think of me the way your mother does, because I'm not that kind of person. I want to know my granddaughter and have a good relationship with you, so keep this number and anytime you want to talk, I'll answer okay? I'll see you in a few days." He placed a folded up piece of paper in my hand and gave me a hug. It was a warm grandpa-y type hug.

I walked out of the gas station feeling happy, confused, awkward, mad, warm and sad all in one convenient package. It was an insane night; quite possibly the most insane of my life. Quick mind recap: Paul McCartney is my granddaddy, mom hates him for not spending time with her, grandma obviously still likes him, he wants to spend time with me, _he_ wants to spend time with _me_! I left there feeling extremely giddy.

I still had to pee though.


	4. The One with the Phone Call

**A/N: Reason for delayed post of chapter 4: Um, so I'm really retarded in real life and I burned my hand getting some biscuits out of the oven because I didn't pull the oven door down all the way, therefore it swung back up and yeah… I won't go into gory details. Let's just say, it burned my hand bad enough so I couldn't type. But it's here now, so enjoy! :D**

That damned number haunted me the whole trip. It sat on top of the guest room dresser, staring at me the entire time. I was so tempted to call it, but I didn't want to seem too eager, like it was some date, only in this case it was my secret, long lost, grandpa. But I digress.

_Should I call it __**now**__?_ I kept picking up the phone like I would call, then put it down and run out of the room like a little girl.

**First attempt:**

_*ring, ring, ring*_

"Hello?" a female voice came through the line.

"Um, yeah, is-" I stopped. Do I say 'my grandpa' or Paul? "Err, is Paul there?" It came out slowly.

"Yes, one second dear." _Yes, I did it! … Shit, he's about to pick up!_

I hung up the phone.

**Second attempt:**

_*ring, ring, ring*_

"Yeah?" The voice was brusque. I was pretty sure it was him.

"Hu- flurr…" was all I got out and then I hung up again. Way to sound smart, Hunter.

**Third attempt:**

_*ring, ring, ring*_

_Deep breaths, Hunter, you can do this!_

"Hullo?" _Good, he answered! Now say what you have to say!_

I inhaled deeply and then just let it all out in one breath. "Hey Paul, or grandpa, I'm sorry, I don't know which to call you. Um, anyway, I just wanted to call and say hi and let you know that I'm really happy to have gotten the chance to meet you and I can't wait to see you in a few days!"

There was no reply. _No, no, no! You scared him, ya freak!_

"Uh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you like this. Please forgive my stupidity." Still no reply.

"Hello? Hellooooo?" I looked down at my phone. Blank screen.

_DAMMIT!_

**Fourth attempt:**

_*ring, ring, ring*_

"Yes?" It was him again. The panic started rising, just the same as last time.

"You-" _*click*_ I instinctively hung up again. _Why is this so hard for me to do? I-_

My phone started buzzing in my hand, making me jump. _Fuuu-! He's calling back! ? _

"Hello?" I answered as casually as possible.

"Yeah, someone called this number just a moment ago. Did you call here?" I covered my mouth to keep in a high pitched shriek. _He knows it's me!_

"Uuuhh, yes." There was a pause on the other line.

"May I ask whose calling?" There was a sarcastic tone. _Great! Now I have to actually __**tell**__ him it's me!_

"Hunter…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't notice the number as yours! Is everything okay?" _Oh good, he thinks there's something wrong, when I'm really just a dunce and felt like calling to say 'Hi, I'm a dunce!' Awesome!_

"Oh yeah, everything's fine, I just called to um… make sure the number was right…" _You moron, that's not what you called for! You wanted to ask grampy when you can see him next! He's your grandpa; you can't have a crush on him anymore! _Shut up voice!

"Well I'm pretty sure it is then." He said flatly. _Ugh, I am so stupid!_

"Oh, ha-ha, yeah!" My voice got a little nervous. "So, uh, I'll see when we get back then?"

"That's the plan." We both paused for a second.

"You don't _have_ to stay in St. Louis, you know. I mean, don't feel obligated. It's okay if you don't want to."

"What if I do want to?" _Oh, way to make things awkward!_

"Oh, err; well I just wanted to make sure you knew that. You know, just because we found out about each other, I just don't want to be some burden in your life." I was getting emotional, for some odd reason.

"Never, luv. You're not a burden in any way, okay? Don't believe any of that crap." He was very reassuring in his tone.

"Okay. Thanks." I smiled to myself, even though he couldn't see it anyways.

"Alright? So I'll see you in a few days then, sweetie. Buh-bye."

"Bye, then." _*click* I did it!_

"Who was that?" I jumped at the voice coming from the doorway.

"Oh, you scared me mom! It was just Paul." Even the mention of his name raised her blood pressure.

"You can't just call him like that. He's probably really busy and doesn't have much time to just talk to _you_." She said 'you' like I'm some sort of peasant that he mustn't associate with.

"It wasn't a big deal, _mother_. He was completely cool with it. Besides, we only talked for like, 5 minutes." Her eyes narrowed at me.

"Alright, just don't call him unannounced like that again. And ask me before you do, okay?" She turned away and started down the stairs. "Supper's ready."

"Okay, mommy!" I said it in as cheerful a voice as I could mutter up, but what she didn't know was I closed one eye and pretended like I was kicking her down the stairs.

I win, mom.


	5. The One with the Picture

"Wow, it smells awesome in here. What are you making?" A warm aroma hit me as I walked into the kitchen where my mother had been for hours making the "perfect" meal, as she calls it, for Paul's visit.

We decided it would be best to start out with just a dinner with him, 1) it's easy. We don't have to worry about going out in public with him and being bombarded. And 2), it's the very most thing mommy dearest feels she can do for him. But it's whatever.

"Oh, I'm just getting the meatloaf out of the oven." I almost bought it for a second and was about to walk out of the room.

"Wait, meatloaf?" She turned to me and cocked her head to the side.

"Yeah… what's wrong with that?"

"Mom, he's a _vegetarian_. He can't eat meat!" Sheer, fake concern came over her.

"Oh my, I completely forgot!" I shot her a steely glare.

"You did not forget, everybody in the freaking world knows about that! You knew, mother." I stopped to calm myself down. "Well, what sides did you make? I'm sure we'll be okay with those…"

"Oh right! Let's see, we have lamb kabobs, chicken wings, quail, chicken pot pie, sushi, mashed potatoes, some mixed vegetables… oh, and some cow tongue."

"Oh my god, mom, you planned this, didn't you? You made all of the sides, meat sides! And _cow tongue_? That's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard!" She looked back at the table and pointed at a bowl.

"Not all of them are meat! There's mashed potatoes and some vegetables." My head was about to explode. It's like she was made from evil dust.

"You are so unbelievable at times, you-!" _*knock, knock, knock*_

"Oh god, he's here! I'm going to go get the door and stall. Mom, figure out something to make him!" I ran to the door as fast as I could, but I ran into my grandma on the way.

"Grandma, good you're here."

"Yeah, I live here darling…" _*knock, knock, knock*_

"Gah, whatever! Go help mom. She made _everything_ with meat and we need to find something else to make him and quick." She rolled her eyes and started toward the kitchen right away.

"Your mother is never going to…" Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the hallway.

I got closer to the door and the anxiety level went way up. I straightened myself up and pulled my shirt neatly down as I pulled the front door open.

"Hi! Good you're here, just perfect timing… Uh come in!" I tried to be as calm and collected as possible, despite what was happening. He smiled a little down at me and walked into the living room.

"Oh, it's a very nice place you have here." I started fidgeting with my fingers while I walked over to him.

"Um, thanks. You can sit down if you like." I gestured to the sofa. "Mom and grandma are finishing dinner, so…" My voice trailed off as he took a seat and observed the house.

"Mother, put those spaghetti-o's away! They have meatballs in them!" Mommy dearest's screaming could be heard through-out the house. Paul shot a look over at me.

"Is everything okay in there? Should I go help?" He started to get up from his seat but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"NO!" A look of alarm came over him, so I tried to bring down my voice. "Sorry, they uh… they just like their… privacy in the kitchen." _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

He didn't reply; he just nodded at me slowly, making me feel even more awkward and uncomfortable. We sat on the sofa in silence for a moment, listening to the horrors coming from the kitchen.

"Cynthia, don't you talk to me like that! You BETTER put that knife down, do you hear me?" There was a crash of pots and pans and the incoherent rambling of obscenities coming out of my mom's mouth. I nervously looked down at my hands and started to say something to ease the tension hanging about in the air, but he beat me to it.

"It smells really nice, what're they making?" _Oh, just everything you can't eat._

"Um… I don't know? They're, uh, very secretive about what they make, you see… It's like a surprise! It's like every night for dinner, I walk in and it's like 'Surprise! Betcha didn't know we were making _this_!'" I laughed nervously to myself. _Ugh, you just keep making it worse…_

"That's interesting…" He said while getting up, looking at all of the pictures hanging up on the wall.

"Is this one you?" He asked almost laughing, pointing at a picture of me as a toddler chugging a can of Dr Pepper. I could feel the heat rising in my face as I walked over to Paul and the picture.

"Oh ha-ha, yeah. I was almost like a Dr Pepper spokesperson when I was younger. Couldn't get enough of the stuff." He smiled very fondly at the picture.

"That's funny. And this is you and your mum?" His eyes darted to the picture a couple of frames down. It was a picture of the cruise we went on a few years ago.

"Yep, sure is. The reason she looks so scared is because it was the first cruise she'd ever been on. Before then she was too scared to go on one because of the movie _The Poseidon Adventure._" He laughed hard at that.

"She always was afraid of boats, wasn't she?"

"How do you know about that?" My face twisted.

"How the hell did you managed to burn _water_?" More shouts came from the kitchen, but I think we both tried to ignore it.

"Well, one year I remember Julia was gonna let me take Cindy, err, your mum on a vacation, but the plan fell through because she was deathly afraid of getting on the boat I had planned to take her on." He chuckled but then got suddenly sad, so I tried to change the subject.

"Oh, um well there's also this one from my 14th birthday… and uh, some other pictures…" He still stared at the photo with a very introspective look on his face.

With his eyes still glued to the frame, he slid his hand back to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped through a few pictures and stopped on the last one.

"This one was taken the first time I ever saw your mum." He smiled vaguely while leaning down a tad bit to show me the picture. It was adorable to say the least. It was definitely an older picture of my mom as a little, very smiley toddler being held by a younger Paul who seemed to sneak in a kiss on her cheek last second.

"Aww, wow that is really _so_ cute! I can't believe you had to wait that long to see her." He slightly raised one eyebrow at me.

"I guess you could say it was well worth the wait though." He closed the wallet up and pushed it back down into his pocket. I looked down at the coffee table and grinned to myself, but the grin flashed away when the door slammed open.

Paul and I both seemed to jump up at the noise and looked over at the door. Mom stood there heaving and sweating out of every pore. She smiled at me like crazy and then stood up straight and gestured to the dining room.

"Diner is served." Paul smiled and nodded at her as he headed toward the table. I followed behind him stopping at the door by mommy dearest.

"What did you guys do?" My voice was a loud whisper. She placed her hands on my shoulders, still smiling, and pushed me lightly into the dining room.

"It's all okay, you'll see." _Yeah, everything is__** just**__ dandy._


End file.
